


Through Blue

by cagedbirdsong



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 07:59:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11619318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cagedbirdsong/pseuds/cagedbirdsong
Summary: Through Blue is a brand new project that I started over on tumblr (you can find it at turtlesoupstories). It is a series of small one shots and snippets that are all from Jamie's POV and containing scenes from the book series as well as the tv show.As far as what scenes will be written, I am accepting requests! Anything from both canon universes is acceptable, as well as non-canon ideas you have in your head, such as a moment you wish to see that we never got to.Enjoy!





	Through Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mibasiamille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mibasiamille/gifts), [marlosbooknook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlosbooknook/gifts), [minandmic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minandmic/gifts).



In hindsight, perhaps the whiskey had not been the best idea. His shoulder was hurt bad enough, and a full night and day of riding had done him no good. His shoulder had nearly come out of place again twice, by his count, and the gunshot wound he had suffered was troubling him something horrid.

Come to think of it, between the exhaustion, pain, and adrenaline coursing through him - not to mention copious amounts of whiskey - Jamie Fraser was starting to feel well and truly wretched. He gave a small grunt as his vision swam and blinked hard, trying to clear his head. 

It didn’t help. 

He was already poorly balanced as is, what with the addition of a second person in his saddle and his injured arm, but he was positively reeling now, and was only vaguely aware of tipping, the sensation of falling, and the impact of his body hitting the ground with enough force to take his breath away. 

He jerked back to reality with a Gaelic curse some time later, the Sassenach woman’s face hanging over him and her hands on the exposed skin of his shoulder, pouring the contents of a flask on the open gunshot wound. “I’m alright,” he panted, making a serious effort to sit up and shy away from the woman - Claire’s - ministrations. “Only a wee bit dizzy.” 

“You are  _ not  _ alright,” she said firmly, hand on his shoulder to push him back down, yellow cat eyes gleaming. “Couldn’t you tell how badly you were bleeding?” She leaned in again, pulling back the material of his shirt to get a better look. “You’re lucky you’re not  _ dead _ -” she snapped “-brawling and fighting and throwing yourself off horses.” 

She stared down at him, a challenge, and he stared right back, blue eyes gleaming in the dark. She had quite the tongue, this Englishwoman. Quite the tongue and quite the temper… And, if he was being completely honest, quite the arse. He had noticed it first during their ride, with her wedged between his thighs, bumping up against him the whole way. And now he noticed it again, with her perched on his thighs, knees in the mud on either side of her hips. He couldn’t really have got up if he tried… or wanted to. 

She tore her eyes away from his, and it was decided. Jamie would stay put and suffer her attentions. “Alright, I need some bandage and a clean cloth,” she called, turning back to the crowd of men looking on. 

Silence. No one moved. 

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ,” she muttered, grabbing a fistful of her shift and tearing for all she was worth. Jamie’s eyes went suddenly wide, watching her with rapt intent, and then his modesty got the best of him and he looked away, cheeks flaming. 

_ He wanted her.  _

He could feel the heat of her bare skin now as her shift rode up, pressed up against the bare tops of his thighs where his kilt had come out of the way. He clenched his jaw, cleared his throat, and tried not to think of his current predicament. Between a rock and a, hmm, hard place. 

“Hold still,” she murmured, dousing the rag with more whiskey before taking it to the wound, making an attempt to clean it. 

Jamie’s eyes flew open and he grunted, sitting up more in an effort to get away from her, his sudden  _ predicament  _ suddenly forgotten in lieu of the searing pain in his shoulder. His eyes rolled momentarily, and he clenched his jaw harder, a fistful of grass caught in one hand. 

“Easy,” Claire murmured, a hand on his shoulder as she wadded the makeshift bandage against the gunshot. She met his eyes again, hers somehow incredibly calm, and he nodded ever so slightly, taking a sharp breath. 

When she was done, she gave him the smallest nod, and climbed off his lap and to his side, one hand on his back. “Alright,” she breathed, and then turned to the other men. “Lift him up.” Together, she and Murtagh, who had dropped to Jamie’s other side, hoisted him into a sitting position so she could wrap the rest of the linen around his torso and hold it in place. He heard her curse under her breath as she fumbled with the awkward position, and then, louder, “Come on, you goddamn bloody bastard.” A momentary hush fell over the group, and Jamie struggled to hide a grin in the corner of his mouth. 

“I’ve never heard a woman use such language in my life, hm?” He heard Dougal remark quietly, eyes peering down at the trio from beneath his cap. 

Jamie arched an eyebrow back at him. Seems they were all entranced by this mysterious Sassenach woman. 

“Your husband should tan yer hide.”

“Och, Saint Paul would-”

She stopped, eyes rolling, and Jamie saw the exasperation written clear on her face as she turned over her shoulder to face Angus and Rupert. “You can mind your own bloody business, and so can Saint Paul.” Silence again, and she nodded, pleased, then turned back to Jamie to fix him with another blazing look. “And if you move so much as a single muscle while I’m tying this bandage, I’ll bloody throttle you.” 

Half of him wanted to take her up on the offer. The other half of him wizened up and sat still, letting her finish up the wrappings. His eyes flickered up to her face briefly, and both her eyebrows shot up, daring him to test her. 

“Hmm,” he smirked, “a threat, is it? And after I shared my drink wi’ ye.” The other men didn’t seem to find his little joke as amusing. 

“We’ve fifty miles ta go yet. Another five hours, at least,” Dougal growled. “We stay here long enough for ye ta stem that bleeding and dress his wound.”

“He needs  _ rest _ ,” Claire countered, shooting to her feet and leaving Jamie to sag against Murtagh. All eyes watched the interaction between the woman and the Scottish warlord, and Jamie could practically feel the tension ripple through the men. Someone nearby cleared his throat and let out a low whistle. 

“Did you  _ hear  _ me?” She stomped off in Dougal’s direction, and Jamie’s heart leapt in his chest. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into. 

“Randall!” He called quickly, relieved when she whipped around to look at him now. He sat forward, wiping a hand across his mouth, and tried to catch his breath. “The officer ye encountered,” she moved to sit back beside him, checking the security of the bandages, and he looked over at her, curious and intrigued all at once. “He won’t give up so easily. He commands the Redcoats hereabouts.” She glared testily at him. “He’ll ha’ sent patrols out in e’ry direction by now.” She paused, and he saw a flicker of concern pass over her features. She understood then, the danger that the captain posed, even after such a brief interaction. 

Right then and there, Jamie would have rather gutted himself than seen her handed back over to the madman, and she was coming dangerously close with every snide remark in his uncle’s direction. She had to know that. Wherever it was she had come from, things were obviously different, but around here… Well, a tongue like that could get a woman in a lot of trouble. 

“We canna stay here long,” he continued, reasoning with her, hoping she would just give up the argument and let Dougal have his way. He knew his little story about the Redcoat Captain was not exactly truthful. While, yes, they would have patrols out combing the woods, it wouldn’t be for the sole purpose of finding the Englishwoman. Jamie and his merry band of men were wanted for treason, and worth far more than an oddly dressed Sassenach found wandering the forest. 

She licked her lips briefly. “You know Randall?” He almost laughed. That was an understatement.  “Black Jack Randall, that is?”

He nodded a little, head hung. “Aye.” A moment of silence lasped between them. “I willna risk you-” quickly, he added “or anyone else” as an afterthought, “by that man.” He looked up at her, gaze level. “If ye canna fix me up well enough ta ride, ye’ll be leavin’ me here wi’ a loaded pistol so I may determine my own fate.” He felt her stare at him. 

“Might have well told me you were shot before you fell off the horse,” she muttered. 

Jamie grinned. “Didna hurt much at the time.”

She fixed him with another one of those looks. “Does it hurt now?” 

He glanced down at the bandages, and then up at her, a smirk tugging on one side of his mouth. “Aye.”

“Good.” She smirked, patted him on the shoulder, and sat back. “That’s about all I can do. The rest is up to you.” She stood, and he nodded a little, lips pursed, and then looked up to see her with her hand extended. 

He took it.

She pulled him up bodily, and the two stood facing one another for a moment, each trying to discern and work out a small bit about this stranger they had come to know. “Thank you, Sassenach,” he said softly after a moment had passed between them. “Truly.” 

She stared back up at him for a moment, and the spell was back, and then she nodded, smiled, and wiped her palms on her shift. “Alright then. On your horse, soldier.” 

He chuckled, nodded, and turned.  _ Yes ma’am.  _


End file.
